


Roses

by baeberiibungh



Category: Original Work
Genre: Body Horror, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Guilt Transference, Non-Consensual, Obsession, Obsessive Behavior, POV, Rape, Rape/Non-con Elements, Triggering language and images
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-14
Updated: 2015-10-14
Packaged: 2018-04-26 10:40:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5001577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baeberiibungh/pseuds/baeberiibungh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A rapist and a victim...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Roses

**Author's Note:**

> Please heed the tags and I again repeat that this could be very triggering.

I look at you and you whimpering out your fake tears and it sates me. It angers me too, how far you try to take this, how realistically you attempt to mourn. If I didn’t know any better, if I hadn’t been told repeatedly in every whisper, in every look that this is what you want, I would have almost believed you. Your cries of ‘no’, your hands flashing around. If you really meant it, you would have pushed harder, shouted louder, but you didn’t. But you didn’t. You just mewled like a kitten, weak and born just an hour ago. You didn’t fight and now this is your responsibility. I was just answering the call.

Your skin rippled under my hand as I held on. You actually tried to buck me like a bronco. Hah. Such a weak show. I am not as weak as I look. It was amazing running my hands through your hair, pulled taunt, showing the arch of your body, the heft of your limbs and I was enamoured. I tied your hands and feet, as I should. You lured me here. You did. Your smile that would flash at everyone but me. Your kind eyes that saw all but me. Why should I be deprived just because you are blind? Why the fuck should I not taste what is already permeating many? You didn’t choose me, that is not my fault, but yours. 

I tried talking to you, tried to be so nice to you, doing favours, in the hope you would see me, but you didn’t, I was just one with the crowd for you. You flitted around like a golden butterfly, shining in the sun and people looked and wanted and took you because they could, I know they did, how could they not, how could they resist. The hours, the days you were not before my eyes, I know you were in the arm of others. I could smell them later. I could see the print of their hands on your body, claiming you as their own and how could I just sit by. Everyone was sipping at your nectar, your charm, why should I be bereft?

So tonight I came to take what is mine by right, because I want it. My want is enough to warrant a share. For am I not important? Must I beg to own what is due to me by the world for my existence? Of course not. That how the rulers ruled the world before and that is how I will rule it now. Take what is yours. You don’t even have to own it, you just have to have it at least once, to leave behind your mark on it. That’s how you gather power. No one had to tell me this. I saw. I saw how everyone else did it and how it was replicated in the movies and the books and TV, I needed no other teacher really. I saw and I learned. 

And then we fucked. We fucked and it was glorious. I saw you came. I saw your slime mixing in with mine, and what greater proof did I need? If I had loved you, I might have been moved to make love to you, with kisses and soft touches, and gentler movements. I might have. But I don’t love you, I just want you and the rules change with that understanding. What rules? Why the universal ones, that cannot stop me from wanting you and thus lusting you and finally having you. If it was not fated I would not have been able to do this now, could I?

I still have a romantic streak and I brought you these roses. Petals only and no stems. I wanted you enough to want nothing else to hurt you except me. If I had more time, I would have drawn a picture on your fluid laden bed with them, dripping with the proofs of a thousand owners before, donated for you, begged for by you, I know that well, I can feel it, how it soaks up my weight even though I am not that big, the creak and squish of that mass. Or maybe I don’t actually feel it, but I have imagined it enough for it to feel real. After all that is the truth.

Now you look so beautiful, with my mark on you. I am sure it will soon become hidden among the others you will carry within days, for that is how lustful you are, aren’t you? Will you tell your friends about me? Who knows? You might if you had liked it. Did you maybe like it enough to come to me on your own? No? Ah. What a lazy person you are. I could offer it whenever you want but you say no. Just shows your lack of intelligence. Now just lay there and I will untie your hands and feet before I leave, remove my fluids off you and make you presentable for your next momentary owner. Gods, what lust you have, how you are never sated. 

I think I will remember you, even when I am marking some more of your ilk. I think I will. I will remember how your lust smell like crushed roses and sweat. Yes I will. Now tell me truthfully, are you not happy I chose you? Am I not a good specimen? Yes I am and I know you are happy too, but you must act out your drama, for that is how you do these things. Cry all you want, wont clean off my claim on you. Forever. You know what, if I remember you too much, I will come back I swear. It just ,means that my claiming is not complete. It means that you are not sated of me yet. 

I will come back to you, I promise, I will and you will pretend to cry like you are crying and I will not care for what is the need to care for pretend. I also promise to bring roses, I like how they smell dipped in your blood. 

 

***************************************************************************

 

I wake up feeling fuzzy and I realize by beats and leaps that I can’t move. I wake up in a hurry then, the unconsciousness fleeing from my brain as I register that someone is standing in my room. I pull on my limbs and find that my legs and arms are bound tightly, leaving me spear eagled. I am naked and I don’t remember feeling as vulnerable. My lips are dry and my heart is beating so hard that I almost feel faint and I am sweating by the bucket. I dry swallow many times but find that nothing comes out from my mouth. I am so scared that I am not sure what to do anymore. 

My whole body feels slimy, as if a snake had touched me while I was unconscious. I can’t feel anything hurting, but my adrenaline is acting up so i am not even sure if I am actually hurt. My fight or flight reaction is coming into being. I am ready to run, to escape any way I can. I have to fight, i must fight, I cannot give in. The person comes nearer and there is such an ugly look on their face that i must turn mine away. But not for long. The fear what will be done to me next make me turn back again.

I am just a piece of meat in their eyes, the disinterest they are showing would be similar to what a human shows to an animal that one is not interested in – either as a pet or as game. Or may be looking at me like I am some kind of animal myself, my worth being inspected prior to taking me to the butcher. I am shaking and shivering and so so so scared and I still can’t say anything. I start to feel that I won’t be able to say anything at all when the person touches me and the touch is like a molten rod, searing my skin and i scream out, i scream loudly while i try to move my body away from the contact. It is dirty, that hand even though it is clean and dry, it feels dirty as it lies itself on me as if the person owes me. 

I start struggling again, my eyes leaking tears in a steady stream, begging, praying, shouting and it chills how my pleading is making no reaction in them. They are silent, inside their head, the rose petals that I can now see and smell around me turning into a cloying musk, heavy and stealing my breath, suffocating me, and I still cry for them to leave me, to have mercy, to please please pleasepleasepleasdlpslepslsppsld not to touch, please. But they don’t care. They don’t care that I am saying something, that I am crying in deep heaves, that I feel sickened to the depth of my soul as they start touching me some more.

I don’t even know the person, I truly don’t. So many people pass in life, what did I ever do to deserve this, what the fuck did I commit that I must be punished like this. My body is revolted, my stomach heaving and I feel nauseous, I could see what they are going to do, the way their hands move, they way they tried to get me ready, to fuck me, to destroy me, to kill my life. They straddle my hip and I buck with all my strength, and scream with my whole body, and they get startled and just as I think I am getting away, they lean back onto me and push me into the bed that is feeling more and more like a prison cell now. 

Then they use me, fuck me without any consideration, pull me, push me, clutch my skin to them, make my body respond while my mind is screaming out it’s horror and I can only lay, only lay like a dumb, like a mute, unable to utter one word, one more plea and my tears won’t stop. How did this happen, why did this happen, how could I have let it happen, how did it become my fault, why did it become my fault? And oh god, god, I can’t stand that pawning anymore, I can’t, I can’t bear to be touched, please help me, please...

My prayers go unheeded. They keep me tied up for hours, make use of my body and crow my responses and all I can feel is the shame. Did i ask for this somehow, did I sent some signal, universal, mistakenly, that this is something I wanted? Did my garb, did my habits, did my hobbies make me an easy target or a I this now because of them? What Am I going to do now, how am I ever going to face my family, my home, my friends? What will I tell them? Will they even believe me? Or will they just blame me, because it was inevitable, simply because it was me?

My heart just about bangs out of my chest when they say that they will return, when I call them again, does that mean that I called them this time too, that this is irrevocably, irredeemably my and only my fault? How did this come to be, how, why, why me, o God why. I will never be able to look at roses now, I can’t. They stick to my skin like bruises while the bruises that I receive will turn that colour in a few days. Will people just look at me and know, and know that I was to blame, for certainly there was something I did wrong, somewhere I went wrong that I am here now, like this, this as my end.

I will never be able to even smell roses now, that is what the halls of hell will be decked in.

**Author's Note:**

> I have kept this as gender neutral and sex-vague as possible. No age, no relation, no location, no punishment is provided. It's more of a study of the mentality during the moments I guess. Absolutely unbetaed. Please give comments and kudos, they make me keep writing.


End file.
